Raven Dragonborn
by Azaisya
Summary: She died young. But don't all great things come to an end, and often far too quickly? But her legacy is eternal. She is the Dragonborn, and this is her story. Sylrina goes from a lowly farmer's daughter to a legend, evading assassins, Thalmor, and common bandits along the way. However, secrets, betrayal, and uncertainty threaten her at every step.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I don't own Skyrim or any of the Elder Scrolls games. **

I sighed and shifted my pack to my other shoulder. My family — peasants — had sent me here to join the Imperial Legion. I had promised to do that, to help fight against the rising Stormcloak Rebellion. Now I just laughed bitterly. There was no way I was joining the Imperials. I didn't want to fight. By the gods, I barely even knew how! I'd never held a sword in my life! I was going to do something with my life. Something meaningful. I just wasn't sure what, yet. But there was no way in Oblivion I was going to join, only to end up one of the countless, nameless, faceless dead bodies littering the ground while others fought on. No way in Oblivion!

I looked around. Now I just had to cross the border. You never know what happens when you cross a border. Especially when you're doing it illegally. Very odd things can happen. I really didn't want to get mixed up in anything... important.

I took a deep breath and stepped across. Nothing. I took another step. Nothing. So far so good. Another step... and nothing. I breathed a sigh of relief and continued. After three more steps, all Oblivion broke loose. Men and women in blue cuirasses swarmed through the trees. Soldiers bearing the Imperial Legions' sign on their armor came out as well. Arrows flew through the trees. I screamed and ducked, running randomly around, one thought plastered in my mind. Stay alive, stay alive, stay alive. Of course I had to get caught in the crossfire between the Legion and the Stormcloaks. Of course I did. I gasped as I tripped.

As I staggered to my feet, someone held a blade up against my throat. I turned and glared at him. An Imperial. "Drop your weapons and surrender, Stormcloak," he spat. Yeah, I was totally joining the Legion now.

"I'm not a Stormcloak," I hissed back, my hand already on the only weapon I had. My dagger. It was made of iron, but had been in my family for generations.

He rolled his eyes. "Like I'd believe you. Surrender."

I glared at him. "My name is Sylrina. I'm not a Stormcloak!" I lashed out with my dagger, giving him a nasty scratch on the cheek. He howled with rage and stabbed at me. I struggled to parry, but, I'll admit, I've never actually used this dagger in combat before.

He shouted, "Now!"

Someone bonked me over the head with something. I gasped in surprise and dropped to the ground, my knees curling beneath me. Then I remembered no more.

**This is just a prologue, obviously. I am not currently actively writing this story. Hope you liked it. The first chapter is about halfway done, but, like I said, this story is on hiatus. Nonetheless, please review (please!), and tell me if I made any mistakes. **


	2. Unbound

**Yes, another story about the Dragonborn. Starting at Helgen. Please just read. I hope that, in time, you'll like it. I think that this chapter is a bit long, but I guess it's shorter than the chapters in Child of the Snows. But, hey. I think the ending is horrible and blunt and not-very-ending-y, but it's passable. **

I groaned. My head hurt. My whole body ached. Where was I? I opened my eyes and struggled to sit up from where I'd been leaning against a hard wooden something. My eyes, still fuzzy, could barely make out three men. Brilliant. And we were on a carriage. And our hands were bound.

"Hey you. Finally awake, are you? You were trying to cross the border, right? Fell into the Imperial trap there, same as us, and that thief over there." The Stormcloak who was speaking to me nodded at the dark-haired man beside him.

I groaned out loud. "You're kidding me. The Legion was there... because you were?"

The man in rags and brown hair snapped, "Damn you, Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy… . If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell" He looked at me. "You there. You and me, we should be here! It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants!"

I just nodded, briefly wondering who this guy was. Even I wasn't stupid enough to try to escape by talking bad about the only other people on this wagon.

The Stormcloak said patiently, "We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief."

The man driving the wagon snapped, "Shut up back there."

I rolled my eyes. "Well, isn't he a pleasant man." I turned slightly, trying and failing to ignore the ache in my limbs. "And who are you?" I asked the Stormcloak sitting in front of me.

"Rolaf."

The thief was staring at the well-dressed man next to me. "What's wrong with him?"

"Watch your tongue, thief. You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King," Rolaf snapped immediately. I froze. Ulfric Stormcloak? This was bad. Very bad. My thoughts were obviously mirrored in the thief's eyes; I could see it.

The thief was staring at Ulfric with wide, frightened eyes. I probably had the same expression on my face. The difference was, when I'm scared I shut up. When this thief is scared, he obviously talks his mouth off. "Ulfric, Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion, but if they captured you... Oh, gods. Where are they taking us?"

"I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits," Rolaf said, gently. I stared at him in horror. I didn't want to die! I was too young to die! And I hadn't done anything wrong!

The thief started to frantically try to escape his bind. "No. This can't be happening! This isn't happening!"

I was starting to feel numb. A strange sound escaped my lips, but they were all ignoring me. I think Ulfric was just hoping that the thief would shut up.

"What village are you from?" Rolaf asked quietly, looking at his hands. I didn't know who he was talking to, but if he was talking to me I wouldn't be able to respond anyways.

"Why do you care?" The thief demanded.

"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home," the Stormcloak explained. Oh, so you aren't talking to me, I thought weakly.

"Rorikstead," he said, finally. "I'm— I'm from Rorikstead."

"General Tullius, sir," I heard a voice. Terror was working its way up my spine, and I suddenly found the desperate urge to live. Especially after he continued, "The headsman is waiting."

I closed me eyes, moaning, "Oh..."

"Good. Let's get this over with," another voice replied. I don't want to get this over with! I wanted to wail.

The thief was muttering a list of gods to himself, pleading with them. Lot of good that'll do you. By now, we were in the city. Helgen. And, by now, I was no longer thinking about anything. Or listening. My mind was blank with fear. I struggled to pull my hands free, but, even if I managed to escape, how would that help me? I was surrounded by soldiers. And Thalmor. I wasn't leaving Helgen alive.

It was only when the cart stopped did I move again, hesitantly following Rolaf as he jumped off the cart.

My feet hit the earth, and then I watched numbly as the thief tried to run. Idiot... Of course, he was shot in the back ("Archers!" the Imperial Captain shouted) and then I was standing before the man with the clipboard and the Imperial Captain. Alone. The others had all been called.

I hesitantly stepped forward. The man with the list asked hesitantly, "Who... are you?"

I averted my eyes. "My name is Sylrina." Vassgori, I thought briefly. If course I didn't tell him my last name.

"You're a long way from the Imperial City. What're you doing in Skyrim?" The man turned to his superior. "Captain, what shall we do? She's not on the list."

My head snapped up, hope swelling within me. So there was a hope I wouldn't get beheaded?

"Forget the list. She goes to the block." With those simple words, the female Imperial completely crushed my hopes. "To Oblivion with you," I hissed angrily. I couldn't believe this. I was about to be beheaded for something I wasn't. I wasn't a Stormcloak, by the Eight Divines, I wasn't a Stormcloak! If looks could kill, every Legion-member here would be dead. So would the Thalmor. How dare the stinking elves even show their faces here?

"I'm sorry. I'll make sure your remains are sent to Cyrodiil," the man with the list said. I glared at him. Oh, that was reassuring!

I quickly followed the Imperial Captain, stopping beside a blond Stormcloak. This was the worst way to die. Ever.

I wondered if my family would ever know how I died. Wondered if my father even cared. My sister would miss me; that was for sure.

An unearthly howling interrupted my thoughts. Of course I wasn't paying attention to whatever General Tullius was saying. Or the Priestess. Or what Rolaf was saying. Or what the now-dead Stormcloak had been saying. I really don't want to think about my own execution. But the sound? That was enough to jerk anybody out of a daydream. It was a terrible ethereal sound, one that sent a shiver down your spine.

I heard someone say, "What was that?" but I wasn't really listening. My eyes, like most everybody else's, were raised to the fluffy white clouds above. And that's when he Imperial Captain said something that jerked me out of my trance. "The Imperial in the rags!"

I couldn't speak. I was shaking as I stepped forwards, fear pulsing within me. I didn't want to die like this! Not like this! This was a stupid way to die; I'm not even a Stormcloak!

I kneeled before the headsman, nausea threatening to overwhelm me. The previous man's body was beside me; I could see his godsdamned head!

I felt someone' shoot on my neck, forcing me lower. I closed my eyes, not wanting to see the head in the box below me. Another howl shook the earth, and I forced my eyes open. I would not die like a coward. I glared at the headsman, but the anger left my eyes as another unearthly howl rent the air. A creature, black as night, landed on the tower behind the priestess.

It was huge. Glowing red eyes glinted maliciously, and jagged spikes crowned the creature's head. And then it roared and all Oblivion broke loose. My vision blurred as an unseen force knocked everybody to the ground and burning rocks fell from the sky. I lay on the ground, stunned, my vision flickering.

A dragon. My heart was in my mouth, my eyes were wide with fright. All I could feel was the incessant need to run, run, run and keep running! To go somewhere, anywhere, as long as the dragon wasn't there! It had saved me form the headman's axe. And now it was razing Helgen. With fire.

I vaguely heard Rolaf calling me, urging me to follow. "Come on! The gods won't give us another chances!" Rocks fell from the sky as I followed him, blindly running towards the tower.

He had just entered the building when I threw myself in, landing with a thud on the floor. Two Stormcloaks were curled up on the ground, suffering from wounds and burns.

I leaped up, stunned, and turned just in time to see Ulfric Stormcloak say, "Legends don't burn down villages."

I interrupted him, saying, "Someone cut my bonds!"

I held out my hands and waited not-so-patiently as Ulfric obeyed, using a knife I had never seen before. My own dagger was gone. The gods-forsaken bastards had probably taken it from me. I massaged my wrists and turned, business-like, to the Stormcloaks curled up on the ground. I knelt purposefully by the one closest to me, my eyes half closed as I reached for the pool of magicka that was within me. I whispered, "Just keep calm and don't tense up. Don't fight the magic."

I only got a low, pained groan as a response. I pursed my lips and focused on concentrating as pale yellow strands licked the young woman's torso, her multiple wounds closing. The burn marks covering her body faded, and I sighed and pulled my hand away. Sudden exhaustion clouded my senses, and I muttered, "How do you feel?"

The Stormcloak woman sat up, blinking groggily at me. "Thank you."

I groaned and tried to stand. I almost instantly fell, but a hand reached out and steadied me. "Steady there, Sylrina."

I looked around at the deep voice of Ulfric. "Thanks," I rasped, my throat suddenly dry. The woman was holding her head. Dizziness was a side effect of healing magic.

I staggered over to where the male Stormcloak sat slumped against the wall, his breathing becoming lighter and lighter. Feeling slightly sick, I knelt by him and closed my eyes as the familiar yellow strands surrounded his body, a pale yellow glow around his body. "Slowly," I murmured softly.

But, despite all of my efforts, his heartbeat slowed and vanished, his pulse became nonexistent, and his breathing disappeared. I drew my hands away, shocked, my eyes wide. I could still hear the sounds of the dragon roaring outside. "I couldn't save him," I murmured. I wasn't the most skilled at Destruction, but I considered myself a Master at Restoration.

Ulfric murmured to me, "If Sovngarde claims him, then even you couldn't save him."

I just shook my head and stood up, trying to fight the growing fatigue that came with magicka use.

Rolaf beckoned to me, leading me up the stairs. I was panicking, desperately following him because, well, he seemed like he knew what he was doing. And, frankly, I wasn't a fighter. I was a farm girl. I am a farm girl.

I was almost up the the first landing — I had somehow gotten ahead of Rolaf — when the rocks exploded inward, crushing the Stormcloak soldier who had been ahead of me. I didn't cry out. I stayed silent and pressed myself against the wall, my eyes wide with terror, as the dragon breathed fire into the room. I could've sworn I had heard words within the flame. Yol tore shell?

The dragon flew away and I breathed a sigh of relief. Rolaf shouted, "Jump through the roof! See the inn on the other side?"

My jaw dropped. "All the way over there?"

He nodded. "Don't worry. You'll be fine."

I turned and looked down the stairs, to where Ulfric and the woman were. "But what about you?"

"We'll follow when we can. Jump!"

I took a deep breath and steeled myself. I backed up, then ran and jumped. I barely cleared the jump, staggering a bit and almost falling to the hungry flames on the roof. I yelped and darted forward, running randomly. Just stay away from the flames, Rina, I told myself.

A man from the Legion waved at me. I raced over to him. I instantly recognized him as the man with the clipboard. Hadvar, was it? He was saying something to the man, who was apparently in charge of the little boy crouching in the corner, his eyes wide with fear and the light of the stubborn Nord fight-or-die-well glowed there.

The Legion man turned to me and asked, "Still alive, prisoner? Follow me if you want to stay that way."

I sniffed but followed him as he ran, telling him, "My name's Sylrina—"

"And mine's Hadvar," he interrupted, without missing a beat.

The dragon roared, and Hadvar shouted, "Stay close to the wall!"

He had pressed himself against a stone wall, his sword drawn. I launched myself so that I was curled up behind him, fear making me desperate. I was no longer safe in a building. I was now running through a burning town with a dragon attacking me! Well, not me, specifically, but still.

A whimper of terror escaped my lips as the dragon landed on the stone wall. His wing was literally over my head, an umbrella of terrifying black leather-like wing.

Fire. Hot, terribly fire. The dragon roared again and took off. Numb now, I wordlessly followed Hadvar, terrified. I didn't know what else to do but follow Hadvar.

Rolaf's familiar voice jerked me out of my stupor. It was harsh and angry, unlike it had been before, "We're escaping, Hadvar! You're not stopping us this time!"

Hadvar snarled, "Fine! I hope the dragon takes you all to Sovngarde!"

Rolaf raced past me while Hadvar continued on. They were both waiting, expectantly. I was torn. They'd both helped me, and without them I'd probably be dragon food.

But then I sighed, turned around, and followed Rolaf. It wasn't that I didn't trust Hadvar. It was just that he was part of the Legion. He could easily throw me right back in jail as soon as we escaped. But Rolaf? He would never do that.

He held the door open for me as I entered the Keep. I heard him come in, heard his gasp as he saw what I saw.

There was a man lying on the floor, wearing the traditional gear of the Stormcloaks. He was dead. I shivered and stepped back. Sure, I'd killed wolves before. But that was when I was safe on the roof with a bow, and they'd just been trying to get at our chickens. But I'd never killed a sentient being before. Never another human. Or elf.

Rolaf knelt by the fallen Stormcloak's side, murmuring softly, "We'll meet again in Sovngarde, brother." I watched silently, amazed. At how even this didn't deter Rolaf. It was an odd prospect to me, calling one you're not related to brother. It just felt . . . fake, I suppose.

After a short silence, he stood and looked at me. Really looked at me. "How old are you, Sylrina?"

I looked down at my feet. I had no place among warriors. "Nineteen."

He sighed and shook his head. "How'd you get dragged into the war?" When I just shrugged, he said, "Take Gunjar's gear. He won't be needing it anymore."

I tentatively leaned down and grabbed his axe. It felt odd in my grip, heavy. He was still watching me. "I'm not going to take his armor," I said finally. "I'm not undressing in front of you." It was just a spark of my old fire, but it was something.

He smiled went to check the gates, throwing over his shoulder, "Ah. I was hoping you weren't boring." Then he swore. "It's locked." He ran to the other gate.

I was, quite honestly, calming now, despite the fact that we could still hear the sounds of the dragon outside.

Then the Legionnaires came. I just screamed, dropped the dead Stormcloak's axe on my foot, and stayed as far away from the ensuing fight as I could.

After Rolaf had (thankfully) killed all of them, he glared at me. "What happened?"

Looking embarrassedly at my feet, I mumbled, "Um... I panicked?"

I felt his hands — furry gauntlets — under my chin, and obediently looked at him. Softer now, Rolaf asked, "Sylrina, I don't want you to get killed. You seem like a perfectly nice girl, but perfectly nice girls don't last long in the battlefield. I don't want you to get yourself killed. But if you panic in battle, you will get everyone around you killed. Do you understand?"

I flinched away from him, automatically stepping back. "Rolaf, I'm not a soldier! I'm not a hero, like you. I'm just—"

He interrupted me, eyes narrowed and voice fierce, "That is exactly what I'm trying to tell you! You can easily just stay behind me or you can do what you did just now and get us both killed."

"I did stay behind you!" I protested, struggling to save what little reputation I had.

"You got in the way!" Rolaf's voice was harsh and low, but he wasn't angry.

"How?" I demanded, bending down to pick up the axe. It was too heavy in my palms, which were slick with sweat. "See? I'm holding the stupid thing."

Rolaf sighed. "You dropped it, and backed into me. Anybody would consider that 'getting in the way'."

I winced again and stood up straight, thrusting my shoulders back. "Alright. I'll stay behind you. I won't fight. I won't do anything. I'll be a good little girl. Happy?"

Rolaf grunted, leading me through the hallways. "No, and I won't be until I'm out of here."

I couldn't help it; I laughed, following. "Can I have a dagger? I can barely lift this thing."

Rolaf shrugged. "I don't have one on me. However, I have a bow."

My eyes brightened. I'd never known how to fight. What I'd done with the dagger before had been for show. Just for show. But I'd always loved the idea of archery. I'd held a bow, once, when a hunter had stayed at my family's house for the night. "Alright." I bit back my excited smile.

It must've escaped, because Rolaf grinned, pulling a long bow out from its clasp at his back. "Here." I grabbed it excitedly, and he continued, "Hold it like this." His hands went over mine, correcting and teaching. "And to pull it back do this. And here—" The Stormcloak handed me his quiver.

I almost squealed. "Thank you! I've never... I mean, I..." I stopped and shook my head, grinning. "Thanks." The bow felt so... right in my hands, and I found myself nocking an arrow easily, flawlessly. "Thank you."

Rolaf nodded and smirked, taking the lead again. "Come on, Sylrina."

If he hadn't been there with me, I would've died. Between the Legion's soldiers, the torture man, and (horror of horrors) the bear, I would've died at least a dozen times. He helped me. And I knew that I would never forget that debt.

**Yeah. I know. This chapter sucked. The next starts when the Dragonborn's already in Whiterun. It'll get better! I promise!**

**And... I know that I said this story is on hiatus, but after publishing the prologue I wanted to type this really bad and the voices in my head wouldn't go away. I'm very bad at updating regularly, but 'ey. Hopefully I can update regularly, but don't expect it. But please review! It means a lot to me!**


	3. Carrots

**So...um...this chapter is a little weird. But at least I'm updating! **

I took a deep breath, brown eyes wide. I couldn't talk. I couldn't move. I just stood there and _stared_. Whiterun was _huge_. The buildings were all _over_, blue roofs and pretty windows. People wandered to and fro, chatting, talking, bargaining. Two children ran down the street, one shouting at the other.

And I, being a naïve little farm girl, was just standing there, eyes round, mouth open, gaping. A couple of people stared at me, whispering to friends, but most didn't give me a second glance.

The guards had let me into the city as soon as I'd mentioned the words _dragon_ and _Riverwood_.

I'd left Rolaf in Riverwood. His sister, Gerdur, had been very nice, letting me eat her food and refill my supplies. She had also landed me a cloak, because Skyrim is freezing and I'm not Nord. She'd only asked me to ask the Jarl to send guards to Riverwood, in case the dragon came.

I'd readily agreed, because I owe Rolaf's family, and Riverwood was a charming little town. I didn't want the people there to be defenseless against a _dragon_. There were _children_ there!

I snapped out of it after hearing a tall man in Legion armor raise his voice slightly when talking to a blacksmith.

Mouth still slightly open, I started down the street hesitantly, soaking in the sights and smells like someone who'd been neglected her whole life. Gods, I hadn't realized just how little of the world I'd seen. The little Vassgori Farm had only grown wheat and cabbages.

Never before had I ever been to a city _this_ big.

I walked up to a well-dressed man who I thought was a Redguard. "Excuse me? Do you know—"

He sniffed disdainfully. "Who are you?"

I stepped back, frowning. "Um... Syl—"

"Do I care?" He raised his eyebrows. "No, I don't. Why are you talking to me?"

I stepped again, taken aback. "Um... Excuse me?"

He turned his back on me and walked off, chin raised loftily. I was staring incredulously after him when a girl's voice said, "Don't mind Nazeem. He's like that to everybody."

I turned around to see a young girl — maybe half my age — with a hand propped on her hip. Her blue shirt was simple, and her undyed skirt was caked with mud at the edges. Her brown hair was tangled and windswept. "I don't think I like him," I declared with a sniff, glaring after the Redguard.

The girl grinned. "Nobody does. Are you an adventurer?"

I shook my head. "Me? Akatosh, no. I just have a message for the Jarl."

Her grin widened. "Really? Then you're someone important!"

With a laugh, I shook my head. I missed being so carefree. "No, I'm just the only person Riverwood could send. I was already coming here anyways."

A brown haired Redguard girl ran up. "Mila, you're just standing here! In the middle of the street!"

The Imperial girl glared at her. "I was talking to her!"

"So? We were playing hide-and-seek. So. _Hide_!" The girls were glaring at each other.

Slightly amused, I interrupted, "So... I'll see you around. I should go up to Dragonsreach now." When they both just stared at me, I added, "Do either of you know the way there?"

"The city isn't that big, you know!" the Redgaurd girl pointed out. "It's the biggest building in the city. Just follow the road. You'll get there — eventually." I admired her spirit.

"Thank you..."

"Braith," Mila supplied.

I nodded. "Thank you, Braith, Mila." I rummaged in the pockets of my rags. I found two coins and tossed them each one.

They both gasped and smiled. "Thanks," Mila said, turning and running.

Braith had opened her mouth to say something to me, but instead turned and shouted, "Hey, Imperial! You're it! You didn't hide; I found you first! You're it! It!"

Mila called back, still racing down the street, "If you can catch me!"

Braith said something that would earn any normal child a mouth-washing with soap, and she began to run down the road. "Hide-and-seek! Not _tag_!"

"You ca-an't catch me!" Mila's jubilant voice taunted.

I grinned and started down the road, jumping up and down to see over the rooftops. Sure enough, I could see a great building on one edge of the city. It was fairly easy to navigate the open roads of Whiterun, because the layout was so, well, open.

Every once in a while, Mila, Braith, or a boy who I didn't know would run past. Some of the townsfolk would give me curious glances, but I can't blame them. I'm sure they got foreigners often, but I'm fairly sure that they've never seen a female Imperial wearing rags and burned in a fair amount of places.

I saw Mila again standing by a market stall. The shopkeepers were closing up shop, talking and chatting with each other.

The Imperial girl was talking to a pretty woman who was most likely her mother. Glad to see someone whose name I actually knew, I asked, "Um... Mila?"

The woman looked over her daughter's head as the girl turned. "Who are you?"

"Sylrina," I said quickly. I didn't want another Nazeem moment.

Mila said quickly, "She's nice."

The woman hesitantly dipped her head. "Well then. I'm Carlotta. Carlotta Valentia."

I nodded slowly, relieved that Whiterun wasn't full of Nazeems. Akatosh, I was _starving_. My stomach rumbled and I forced a smile. I was exhausted, hungry, and I was freezing. And to top it all off, the sky was darkening. "Great. Um... I have a message for the Jarl? Riverwood requires aid? A dragon attacked Helgen. Um... I guess what I'm trying to say is, how much to tomatoes cost?"

Mila looked up at her mother. "Let me go with her to Dragonsreach! Please! I've never been there before!" Her eyes were wide and round.

Carlotta patiently said, smiling slightly, "You'll have to ask her. The Jarl doesn't see just anybody, you know." She reached behind her and grabbed a tomato. My mouth watered. "Four Septims."

I quickly put my hands into my pockets and began to count. "Damn. I have three. A carrot?"

She pulled out three and handed them to me in exchange for the gold. "Besides, Mila, I need help bringing in all the extra goods."

The girl's face wrinkled into a pout. "Alright, Ma."

I laughed, munching on the carrot. "Thanks, Carlotta. See you around, Mila." I started back up the path towards the castle-like structure that dominated the city. The talk of the merchants faded away as I entered the nicer part of town.

Shivering again, I felt out of place in my burnt and torn rags, walking through well maintained houses and paved street. Guards would pass every once in a while, commenting on random things.

I sneezed. The guard who just happened to be walking past at the moment jumped. "Citizen."

Glaring at him, I sneezed again. "You can't send the Jarl a message for me, could you? And tell me where the nearest inn is?" I was shaking now, so I took another bite of the carrot. I was really regretting giving away my coins to those girls. What I wouldn't give for a nice, warm fire...

The guard hesitated. "The Jarl?"

I nodded. "Please?" I was starting to realize that Sylrina the Courier was not a good idea. What Jarl would want to see a girl in rags? "T- tell him that Riverwood needs more guards. Because a dragon attacked Helgen, and Riverwood is right by there."

The guard brightened. "Me?"

I nodded, realizing why he would want to accept. It would probably put him in the Jarl's good graces, which Whiterun guards probably cared about. Well, I didn't. All I care about is finding the inn.

"I swear your message will reach Jarl Balgruuf, lady." He turned to go, and I was just wondering, _Who's Bal- Balgu- whatever he said?_

Then I jumped to attention, realizing the guard hadn't answered my most important question. "Wait! Where is the inn in this city?"

The guard looked back, and I saw him blink in the darkness of his helmet. "The Bannered Mare is where the merchants set up stalls for the day."

I turned and walked back down the road, shivering. I also felt an odd kind of guilty relief. I didn't want to talk to _any_ Jarl.

Vassgori. It was just a farmer's name, not one that inspired greatness, or made you think of people who could just walk in and talk to Jarls without a prior invitation or warning.

And that's what I was. A Vassgori. The cold air bit at my fingertips and legs, my nose and cheeks going numb. But still I walked on, bitterness growing within me.

Not just any Vassgori.

No, I was Sylrina, the younger Vassgori girl. The useless one. The worthless one.

"Sylrina?"

I turned around, shivering, to see a brown haired girl standing just outside the door to a building with two stories. I dimly realized that I was back in the market square, freezing my various parts off, fingers still wrapped around my last carrot.

Mila raced towards me, grabbing my arm and leading me towards the inn. "You're freezing! Did you think you were a Nord, or something?"

I didn't respond, because then the noise of Nord chatter filled my ears, and I saw the dancing light of a fire. I vaguely remembered feeling like my face was melting, and the world suddenly spinning, and Mila crying out.

When I awoke, I was a lot warmer, but I was still hungry. My eyelids fluttered open, and I groaned. My eyes immediately found a face, mere inches from mine. I cried out and flailed, my limbs connecting to something soft. The man yelped and I dropped to the floor, having been previously unaware that he'd been holding me.

I heard voices around me.

"Mikael!" a female voice snapped.

A man's said, "Ow! She hit me in my—"

"Not in front of the child!"

"Is she awake?" I recognized Mila's childish voice.

I felt refreshed, despite the hunger, and snapped, "You perverted as—"

Carlotta coughed pointedly from where she stood behind the blue-eyed man who I assumed was Mikael.

"Asinine man," I finished quickly, hoping that wouldn't be considered a profanity.

Mikael said cheerfully as he staggered upright, "Ah, Carlotta, you know you love me."

Carlotta leaned over and hissed a few choice words at him, but it was out of Mila's earshot. The blond man winced, and looked at me. "So... you are—"

"Shut it, unless you want your tongue cut out," I interrupted, already getting what type of man he was.

A Nord woman who I assumed was the barkeeper (she wore the right dress), asked me, "Do you feel alright, dear?" Blinking, I tried to focus on how I felt.

Ignoring the growing argument between Carlotta, Mikael, and another Nord woman, I mumbled, easing myself into the bench by the fire, "I'm fine... just starved." I wasn't as cold anymore, and I bit into my last carrot.

As the woman hurried over to the counter, I turned quickly and said, "But I don't have any money." I groaned inwardly, and Mila patted my elbow.

The brown-haired innkeeper said, "No worries; you can chop wood for the fire in return for food."

My eyes widened. "Oh, thank the Eight Divines! You have no idea how long my day has been! There was the cold — have I mentioned I'm not Nord? — and I was starving, and I have barely any food, and I had less than five Septimes, and there were the wolves, and the dr—" I froze and cut myself off quickly. I was instinctively being quiet about my imprisonment, and although Whiterun was supposed to be a neutral city, I had seen plenty of pro-Imperials here (like the man who'd been arguing with the blacksmith on my way in).

Thankfully, Mila quickly diverted my attention. "Wolves? You killed a wolf?"

The Nord woman handed me a platter of food, which I gladly dug into, talking very quickly to Mila, "Yes, wolves. And, no. I didn't. The ones in this area have fur black as night. I heard them howling, first."

Carlotta sat down next to her daughter, glaring over my head at Mikael, who was singing a song I didn't know. Mila demanded, "Did you _kill_ them?"

I blinked in surprise, starting to eat slower now, "Well... do you want the truth or a good story?"

The girl frowned, obviously torn. Then she sighed, passing her mother a look under her hair before meeting my eyes. "Truth."

I laughed. "Alright, then. I ran. And I've never run so fast in all my life! I ran all the way to Whiterun, and just outside one of the farms I stumbled across a giant and a group of warriors fighting it. They basically saved my sorry a— hide," I corrected quickly. I didn't normally swear, but it has been a long day. I shook my head, smiling down at the girl. "They killed the giant and the three wolves chasing me." I grinned.

Mila pouted. "That's it?"

I nodded, grinning at her disappointment. Carlotta muttered under her breath, "Mikael should be chased by wolves." I snuck a glance behind me at the singing bard

The little Imperial girl decided, "You have to learn how to tell good stories."

**So... that's Carrots. I know, a little weird. Please review! And I will try to update once every other week.**


	4. Chores, Tag, and Songs

**Sorry I'm late. But I at least the quality of this is better than the last chapter of Child of the Snows. So... yeah. **

* * *

I slept curled up by the fire. I didn't have money to pay for a room, and Hulda — who was the innkeeper — apparently didn't mind homeless Imperial girls sleeping in her inn.

She woke me early, not intentionally, but she was moving around, sweeping, dusting, and it woke me. With a grimace — my whole body was sore — I stood up. "Good morning," I said with a yawn.

She smiled. "You never did tell me your name."

I rubbed my eyes and eased myself into the bench by the fire, which was low. "Sylrina. My name is Sylrina. And I wanted to thank you for helping me and such. I don't know where I'd be if you hadn't."

She smiled and continued sweeping the broom across the floor. "It's perfectly fine," Hulda assured, "It sounded like you had a long day, dear."

"You've no idea," I muttered, then raised my voice to a normal level. "There's a dragon loose in Skyrim."

Since it was still dark out — why do innkeepers wake up so early? — only Hulda was there to turn and gape at me. "A _dragon_?"

With a wry smile, I nodded. "Yes. Black as night, huge, breaths fire, etcetera."

"Impossible."

"Very possible," I said with a sigh. "Which is why I'm burned in one too many places."

Hulda jumped suddenly and thrust the broom at me. "I'll be right back," she promised. "But for now you can start to earn your keep. Sweep!"

I hastily stood, ignoring my various aches and ouches, to sweep. I had practice; after all, I was the younger Vassgori girl. I got the chores, while my sister got the riding lessons.

Since it was rather cold, I put more wood onto the fire and poked it with a long stick. The flames faltered, and I glared at it. _Come on,_ I thought, _It's freezing. Light._ Flames flickered on one of the logs, but the wood itself didn't catch. _Burn_, I thought fiercely, grinning at my foolishness.

To my surprise, the logs suddenly blazed with fire. With a yelp, I leapt backwards, dropping the broom. "Holy Akatosh," I breathed, startled. "Did I do that?"

Hulda came back in. "You started the fire. Good. Here, drink this. It should fix you right up. And if you're done, then is have other chores, and food."

She tossed me a small pink bottle and hurried behind the counter. Still slightly shocked, I examined it. Then, with a shrug, I pulled off the cork and downed it. It tasted good, like fruit juice. To my amazement, I felt my various injuries shrink and vanish, as fine pale yellow threaded its way up my body. "Healing potion," I breathed. "Thank you."

Then I shook myself. I had chores to do.

* * *

As I was eating lunch, Mikael sat next to me. Hulda had gone out to buy some fruits and vegetables, and Saadia — who was Hulda's helper-like-assistant-thing, but I suppose I was too — sat quietly in her room, which was apparently normal.

The Bannered Mare's other patrons were out and about Whiterun, so it was only Mikael and I in the room. I was eating a sandwich, when I became aware of the fact he was sitting next to me.

I slid away from him, not wanting to be bothered by flirts.

Mikael slid towards me. "So, I heard your name is Sylrina."

Grimacing, I muttered, "Just stay away from me." After a moment, and I added, "And Carlotta."

The young man shrugged. "Oh, Sylrina. I _might_ leave Carlotta alone. For a price. For a price."

I took a deep breath. Quite honestly, I wanted to repay Carlotta and little Mila. "Alright. I'll pay it."

Mikael leaned over, so that he was nearly touching me. I instinctively leaned away, lips curling in anger. "Alright, little Sylrina. We have a deal."

I took a deep breath. "Alright, Mikael. I'll have more money later." The bard nodded, and I breathed out, eating the rest of my sandwich.

I stood up and left the Bannered Mare, partially wanting to put some space between the bard and me. And, besides, I hadn't really explored much of Whiterun yet, and the city was in the center of Skyrim. It must be a center for trade.

As I wandered down the street, fairly sure I'd be able to find my way back if I got lost, I hummed under my breath. It was the only Nordic song I knew. The Dragonborn Comes. Halfway through the song, I frowned. I'd forgotten the rest. Brilliant.

As distracted as I was, I didn't notice a guard come up to me until he said, "Um . . . Ma'am?"

I jumped, silently berating myself for letting someone sneak up on me. "What?" Did I know him? Honestly, all the guards looked the same to me.

"You're the girl with the message for the Jarl, right?" I nodded mutely, suddenly aware I was still dressed in rags. I looked like some beggar. I really needed to buy some new clothes. Continuing, he said, "Well, the Jarl has a job for you. You're to go up to Dragonsreach to talk to him. Soon."

My jaw dropped. _What_? I didn't want to run jobs for a Jarl! Who knew what he wanted me to do?

"Has to do with the dragons returning," the guard elaborated.

I glared at him. Nope, I did not want _anything_ to do with dragons. I would just continue my walk, and maybe visit Dragonsreach, hmm, _never_. The Jarl could find some other poor soul to run his errands.

"Sylrina! Sylrinasylrinasylrinasylrina!"

I turned, thankful, to see a little Imperial girl running up to me. Behind her trailed a Nord boy with blond hair. "Hello, Mila," I greeted, "What are you doing here?"

She waved her hand behind her. "Helping Mama. And playing tag. This is Lars."

I looked at Lars, curious, and he stuck out his hand to me. I shook it, grinning inly. He had obviously had a better upbringing than Mila (who had been raised by Carlotta) and Braith (who insulted me the first time she saw me).

He smiled shyly. "Hello. Mila tells me your name is Sylrina and you got chased by wolves."

I grimaced and pulled my hand away, stepping forwards to let a guard pass on his patrol. "Yes . . . about that. . . ."

His blue eyes brightened. "Do you want to play tag?"

Mila jumped up and down suddenly, grinning. "Tag?" I echoed. "As in chase?"

The Imperial girl laughed and tapped me on my elbow. "You're it!" Then she darted away, giggling. I barely had time to open my mouth before Lars followed suit.

With a resigned sigh, and a barely suppressed grin, I ran after. I felt lots better after Hulda had given me the potion, and I could run almost as fast as I had back home.

Lengthening my strides, watching Lars dart around civilians, I thought, _Children run fast!_

And Lars and Mila knew the city better than I. I knew all I had to do was keep Mila in sight, because then I could ask her to help me find the Bannered Mare again.

I saw a flicker behind a tree and lunged, tapping a girl on the shoulder. When she turned, eyes wide, I realized she wasn't Mila. She was an Imperial, too, but her hair was blond. The girl asked, hesitantly, frowning, "Could you spare a coin?"

My heart went out to the poor girl. Slowly, I shook my head. "I'm sorry." Smiling hesitantly, I tapped her again. "Tag." Then I ran off, wondering if that had been mean. But what beggar girl didn't want some fun?

As I ran past startled (and, in some cases, disgruntled) looking civilians, I wished I had been able to give the girl something. But I hadn't. I turned several corners, unsure if I was further or closer to the beggar girl, and ran into a Redguard girl.

"Hey! Watch where you're going!"

We were both on the ground. I stood up, brushing off my breeches. "Sorry. Oh!" Recognizing her, I put out my hand to help Braith up.

The girl glared at my and slapped my hand away, getting up herself.

Apologizing, I continued, "Sorry. We were playing tag, and—"

Her eyes widened. "Oh, you're in the game, too?" When I grinned and nodded, and punched me in the arm and scrambled over a fence, away from me. "You're it!" she shouted behind her.

My grin vanished and my jaw dropped as I rubbed my arm. Braith was in the game? How come I hadn't known? I scrambled through the streets, hoping I would find someone else. Seeing Lars just ahead of me, I sped up, gasping and out of breath, just in time to tap the back of his head.

He whirled around, frowning, and I gasped, "You're . . . it."

Eyes widening, the Nord boy muttered, "Again?" He sped up as I slowed down, breathing hard. And I braced myself, hands on my knees, gasping for breath.

Carlotta's voice came from somewhere ahead of me, "Sylrina!"

I looked up to see that the Bannered Mare was just ahead of me, and jogged over to the Imperial's stall. "Hi," I said breathlessly.

The Imperial woman smiled. "Looks like you need a break."

As I nodded, I remembered something. "Oh! Right. I convinced Mikael to let you alone."

That obviously wasn't what she had expected me to say, because her eyes widened. "What?" When my grin just widened (which was partially interrupted by my panting), her lips curved into a wry smile. "Then I thank you. Here—"

She ducked behind her stall, and came back up with a small pouch. My eyes widened in delight. "Than—"

"I should be thanking you," Carlotta assured, watching as the blond Imperial girl raced past, Mila hot on her heels.

I took the pouch, making a silent note to count how much was in there later. "I might actually be able to buy real clothes," I said, eagerly.

Carlotta laughed. "Thank you. It really means a lot to me."

I nodded. "Same here."

The blond Imperial girl ran back, saw me, and ran towards me. "My cue to go," I said to Carlotta, already racing away, hearing the patter of light feet behind me.

* * *

I was exhausted when I finally traipsed back into the Bannered Mare. Mikael winked cheekily at me. I glared at him, still humming under my breath. I think Lucia — I had finally learned the little Imperial girl's name — was currently It, but I wanted nothing more to do with the game. I'd had no idea children could play one game that long.

I swore softly. "What's wrong?" Mikael asked, who was (thankfully) taking a break.

"I forget the rest of the words. . . ." My voice trailed off as I brightened. "You probably know the words!"

I sat down across the corner table from him — Uthgerd was out doing who-knows-what — and smiled at him. "The Dragonborn Comes. You know it, right?"

Mikael picked up his lute. "Why that song?"

"Because it's stuck in my head and, for the life of me, I can't figure out the rest." I wasn't that hungry; Carlotta had given me food for what I'd done for her. I sang the last line I remembered. "It's an end to the evil of all of Skyrim's foes." Shaking my head, I sighed, "And that's as far as I can go."

Mikael raised his eyebrows. "You don't have a half-bad voice." He softly sang the rest, and I listened, storing it away in my memory.

Suddenly, I felt very shy. Like I used to feel around boys back when I was at the Vassgori Farm. "Singing— I mean, I like it. I don't know many Nordic songs."

The bard brightened almost instantly. "I can teach you more."

I blinked up at him. "Really?"

Whatever he was about to say was interrupted by Hulda. "Mikael, leave the poor girl alone. Sylrina, can I ask you to go chop some wood for the fire?"

Mikael blinked, slightly annoyed, and I called, "Yes, Hulda." As I turned to go, I whispered to him, "I would like that. I really would."

I ran to grab a woodcutter's axe, to go and cut wood. The fire was getting awfully low, and I was afraid to tell it to light, like I said before. Magic was just . . . unnatural. And it scared me, that I might be able to use it.

Cutting wood was easy, but strenuous. Sigurd, who was Belethor's assistant (and I didn't even know who Belethor was), had showed me. He also showed me how much I had needed. He was a decent man, but had made it very clear that he was very busy. But he had still showed me, so he couldn't be all that bad.

I couldn't run back to the Bannered Mare carrying the axe and the logs, but it didn't take me forever, like it had that morning. But then I had kept dropping all the logs. Still, the light had faded by the time I pushed open the door to the Bannered Mare.

The talk and bustle of a full inn greeted me, and I smiled at the ones I recognized. Mikael was singing, of all things, _The Dragonborn Comes_. When he caught my eye, he winked and continued singing.

I dumped the logs by the hearth, and began to strategically placing them in the low flames, trying to get the fire to a reasonable height.

The flames responded eagerly to my touch, and I flinched away from it. Something about the way they jumped beneath my fingers, grew, brightened, made me finish my job very quickly.

Mikael's voice came from just above me, "Jumpy, aren't you?"

I leaped backwards, away from the fire, and into the bard's knees, knocking him backwards. We both toppled over, pots and logs banging all over. With a yelp, I gasped, "Mikael!"

The mentioned bard stood up, dragging me with him. "You didn't seem jumpy earlier."

Several people snapped, "Mikael!"

The bard retorted indignantly, "I'm not harassing her!"

The same people snorted disbelievingly, and I tore myself from Mikael's grasp, hastily piling up all the firewood again, blushing furiously. Hulda called, "Sylrina, the fire is already high enough."

I nodded, unaware that the flames had risen as my cheeks burned. "Right." I hastily moved over to sit at the counter, going around everybody.

"Was he bothering you?" Hulda asked absentmindedly, watching her customers to make sure none of them got into a brawl.

"No," I assured her. "Although I'm sure he will in the future."

The innkeeper laughed wryly. "Well, isn't that the truth."

* * *

**So, here's another chapter. Hope you liked it. I'm not sure if this chapter seems longer or shorter than my normal, but I realized that the first chapter in this fic is really long. Really really really long. So...review! Please. Point out any mistakes I made (I am doing this all from memory...), or if anyone is OOC, or... yeah. See ya.**


	5. Bard's Songs

**Here's another chapter. **

* * *

"No! It's 'we'll drive out the Stormcloaks and restore what we own'!"

The look on Mikael's face made me burst out laughing. "Alright," I managed to force out as I gasped for breath. "Alright! Whatever you say, Mikael." When he just glared at me, I doubled over, struggling not to laugh.

Drily, he informed me, "You're snorting."

"You're the . . . pig . . . not . . . me!" Gasping, I sat back up, fighting to get a straight face.

The bard and I were sitting alone in the upper room of the inn. I was supposed to be sweeping, but had gotten distracted when he had come in and offered to teach me more songs. I guess people thought he was a flirt, but I think he really isn't. I think that he's really a good man, a nice man, but he hides it. Not sure why, but men (especially Nord men) are odd.

Mikael absentmindedly strummed his lute, and I stuffed my sleeve into my mouth. Because I chopped wood and did chores (I still let Saadia act as a waitress), Hulda gave me an allowance. I had finally earned enough for some decent clothes. Right now I wore a plain shirt and breeches.

I sung, hesitantly at first, the beginning of the Age of the Aggression. When I got as far as I remembered, I asked, "Isn't Whiterun neutral, though?" I knew that Ulfric had started a war with the Legion. I think. Was that right? Not sure.

Mikael nodded, smiling grimly. "More or less. Although you have the Battle-Borns and the Graymanes here, too. Imperial and Stormcloak, respectively. Both old, both respected families."

"Oh." I began to play with my hair, which I had been too lazy to braid today. "What if one of them wants me to sing the pro-Stormcloak version? Because I'd prefer not to get skewered by Stormcloaks."

"Don't we all?" Mikael pointed out.

I grinned, but still glared at him. With a sigh, he said, "Then just don't sing it until you know both, alright?"

I nodded, and sat closer to him so I could look at his lute. "What does that mean?" I flicked one of the strings.

He jerked his lute away from me. "Sylrina!"

"Well?" I asked, grinning impishly as I reached out to do it again.

He flicked me with his finger. "You should go to Solitude. The Bard's College is there."

"Where's Solitude?" I asked, curious. Wasn't that the capital of Skyrim?

As Mikael opened his mouth to reply, Hulda's voice drifted through the floorboards. "Sylrina, dear! What are you doing?"

Guiltily, I sprang up. "Do you need the broom or something?" I shouted down. As I grabbed it and returned to my chores, I told my teacher, "You should get down there. You know, to sing."

Mikael nodded importantly, and swept into a bow. "We shall meet again, Sylrina." He tried to take my hand to kiss it or something, but I snatched it back, tugging his nose.

"Nice try," I said, laughing, dancing away from him.

With a grin that lit up his eyes, Mikael vanished downstairs.

As I swept, I sang the lines I knew under my breath. I was afraid that I got a bit wrong, because then I would memorize it wrong, and that wasn't good. I missed a quite a bit of floor, but I was supposed to be finished already, so. . . .

As I came downstairs, leaving the broom propped against the wall, I was dismayed to see the inn relatively full. I hated crowds. Uthgerd was arguing with some man I had never seen, probably not from around here. I made a mental note to tell them to punch each other to death _outside_.

"Sylrina!"

Jumping, I turned. "I finished sweeping, Hulda!"

"Yes, dear, can you light the fire?" The Nord woman looked warily at Uthgerd and her companion before hurrying over to where Saadia was cooking. If I cooked, I think everyone would die of food poisoning.

As Mikael sang Ragnar the Red, I glared at the pile of logs that I had stacked earlier that morning. Silently daring the fire to act up, I dropped a log into the flames. They pounced eagerly on the log, the flames burning hot and bright.

I silently scolded them like I would feisty puppies. _Bad fire. Stay in the hearth. Good fire. Wait, no, don't do that!_ I hastily jerked my hands away from the flames before they could jump onto my sleeve. Tricky business, playing with fire.

I had seen Hulda and Saadia add logs to the fire. It had acted perfectly tame around them, not leaping about like something alive.

A voice, male, interrupted my thoughts. "Do you make it jump intentionally?"

I leaped up instinctively. "Huh?" _Real intelligent response, Rina. Real intelligent._

"The fire," the man said, "Do you do it on purpose?"

He was wearing mage robes, the top of his head hidden in a hood. However, from his physique and eyes, I could tell he was a Nord. Didn't Nords not like magic? Hesitantly, warily, I replied, "The fire isn't alive." I silently thanked the gods that the inn was busy, and that no one noticed me. Maybe a full inn was good after all.

The man shrugged. "It's not alive, sure, but you can still control it. The College of Winterhold is in Winterhold."

I muttered, "I could've guessed that. . . ."

He continued, unperturbed, "You can learn how to do magic there."

"I don't have magic," I insisted. A hand fell onto my shoulder, and I jumped, knocking the log I was holding away.

The man caught it, as the person behind me demanded, "What's going on, Sylrina?"

"Mikael!" I snapped. "Don't scare me like that again!" Then my jaw dropped. "Holy Akatosh. . . ." Flames were dancing across the log in the mage's hand, but they stayed on the logs, not jumping onto his sleeve or trying to get away from him.

Mikael narrowed his eyes. "Don't do that indoors," he snapped, "We're in a wooden building." Of course, he didn't mention that everybody and their aunt would now hate the man who so easily controlled the elements.

With a shrug, he dropped the log into the hearth. The flames reached up to grab the new log. I glanced at Mikael, to see him troubled. "And if you wouldn't mind getting out. . . ." the bard said.

The man looked at me. "Winterhold, Sylrina."

I just nodded, eyes wide. Because I had to use my mouth to talk, I picked my jaw up off the floor. "Right."

He smiled. "My name's Onmund." I just nodded, not even realizing I was turning to watch him leave.

Then Mikael drew his hand away. "What was that about?"

I shrugged, not sure how he would take the fact that I had magic. But everyone can do magic, my mind protested, If they're taught. I informed my mind, And Nords don't like magic. Neither do I, for that matter! My mind retorted, You've always liked the idea of magic!

Realizing Mikael was still waiting for an answer, I said hastily, "Fire."

He raised in eyebrow and pointed to the fire. As I looked, I realized I was practically in the hearth, and leaped away. The fire also reach higher than my waist. Eyes widening, I gagged. "I did that?"

He shrugged. "You or him." He threw a distasteful look at the door. "He shouldn't've come in here." Then he shook himself. "I have to go, or else people will start thinking I care about you."

"And that'd be the end of the world," I muttered.

Mikael said, loudly, "Why not? Of course I can sing that!" And then he walked back to his post, continuing to sing Ragnar the Red. I just shook my head. I felt sorry for Ragnar, even if he bragged. I mean, who wants their completely humiliating death preserved forever in song?

I slowly moved away from the fire, into the corner by the door. Almost immediately, the fire lowered to a more normal height. Breathing out a sigh of relief, I sat.

It was only after I had eaten and was back upstairs (dusting this time) did Mikael come back to talk to me.

"Why are you up here?" he demanded.

I smirked at him. Locks of his blond hair stuck out at strange angles, and nobody had told him. Waving the rag at him, I said, "Dusting."

He flapped his hand at me. "You're getting dust everywhere."

With a shrug, I returned. "And the fact that it's so busy downstairs." He had long since learned that I didn't like crowds. Frankly, I was fine with crowds. But to me, a crowd was Hulda, Mikael, Carlotta, and Mila. That was about it.

Frowning at me, the Nord man sat down. "What's bothering you?"

Training my eyes on the shelf, I said, slowly, "Nothing. . . ."

"You're a terrible liar," he informed me.

I made a face at him. What Onmund had said to me about magic and the College of Winterhold had been nagging at me as the day had wore on. And one thing in particular got to me. "I can't read," I said finally.

Mikael raised his eyebrows, which were slightly darker than his hair. "That's what's been bothering you?" he demanded. As I smiled slightly sheepishly, he sighed. "That's an addle-brained reason to be bothered."

Defensive, I snapped, "Well, can't you read?"

He nodded slowly. "Of course."

"Can't Hulda?" Without waiting for an answer, I pushed on, "And I know Saadia can. I've seen her reading before. Uthgerd can, you can, Carlotta can. Even Mila can!"

"But you knew this was the Bannered Mare," Mikael pointed out, sitting on the bed, careful not to mess up the furs.

"Hulda told me," I admitted. "I couldn't read the sign."

With a sigh, Mikael rolled his eyes. "Sylrina! You are so . . . childish sometimes."

"What?" I demanded, still feeling defensive. I was still dusting, moving carefully around objects before picking them up and going under them.

"I can read, can't I? Hulda can, can't she? Your friends can, can't they?" he said, exasperatedly.

I was now just standing there, the rag limp in my hand, just watching him, my dark eyes locked onto his blue eyes. "Yes. . . ."

"I'm teaching you songs, right?"

Catching onto what he was saying, my lips starting curving into a smile. "Yes."

"So we can teach you! Sylrina, you're so—"

"Amazing," I said with a grin, bounding up to him. "Can you really teach me to read? For real?"

"I wasn't going to say 'amazing,'" he protested.

But I hugged him briefly before running back to my dusting, looking down to hide my grin at the shocked look on his face. Then his cheeks reddened slightly. My grin only widened as I ducked my head again.

As I moved the rag across the shelf's knobs, I looked back to see Mikael shaking his head. "There are times like this where I remember you're a girl."

"At least I'm able to put up with your womanizing," I taunted.

Grumbling, Mikael left to go downstairs.

I smirked. He was too easy to tease. Then I sighed. Reading had only been a small part of my problem. That man, Onmund, had been able to control the fire, without getting burned or hurt, or having it jump all over. I didn't like magic. Never had, never will.

But the way the fire jumped scared me. If I didn't learn to control it, could it destroy the inn?

My sensible part took over. I couldn't go all the way to Winterhold. I didn't have enough money to buy a carriage — I barely had enough money to buy clothes and normal things! If I had to pay for my food, I would be dead.

And Akatosh knows I wasn't going to walk to Winterhold. That would be a nightmare. If I was attacked, I wouldn't be able to defend myself. Who knows? I could even be kidnapped by bandits. Or something.

_Or mauled by a bear,_ a part of my brain said.

Grimacing, I told it, "I hate bears."

_Me too_, it said.

Finishing my chore, I went back down to eat. Some of Hulda's patrons were already going back to their own homes for the night, which was fine with me.

I grabbed my dinner, which Hulda had set out for me, and sat in the corner to observe. Most of the people who were still in were drunk, and I knew better than to make myself a target in front of them. The Eight know I have enough troubles.

A grin flickered across my lips. Tomorrow I would read. I met Mikael's eyes from across the room and smiled wider. Yes. Tomorrow I might be able to become more than just a farm girl. Little Vassgori, I used to be called. _Not anymore,_ I thought with satisfaction.

* * *

**So. I know that these are all filler chapters. But I promise I'll get to killing stuff . . . eventually.**


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